[ ONE-SHOT following the Military Ball and Violent Delights ]

It was already late when Warren finally got back to his office. He stood with his back to the closed door and looked around at the darkened room. His eyes lingered on the little tin of shoe-shine that had been left on his desk the night of the parade, brought to him by the woman whose blood now stained his clothes. He looked down at himself and sighed.

Bex Brekker had been one of the many witches involved in the battle of Cambria versus the Coheedsmen. Though he had not known her personally at the time, he had come to respect her over the years. They'd been lieutenants together for some time, and they didn't interact as much as he might have liked before the event. But she was tenacious, fearless, straight to the point, and seemed to have had an unyielding discipline. There were few witches who represented everything a good soldier, and leader, ought to be, but Bex had been one of them.

Where had it gone wrong? What had driven her to turn against her kingdom, against her own soldiers. People that she had taught, people that she had fought alongside side. Many of the soldiers in the ballroom had never seen war, never seen battle. Hardly any of them had ever seen the werewolf curse used at all, much less so up close and personal. It would frighten them away from the program, which was unfortunate, because they needed more of them.

He couldn't wrap his head around it. He could only see the look of sheer defiance in her eyes when she fought to get away from Warren as he held onto her. Could only think of the way his chest had burned when she cast her curse and stole the air from him. Even now, his chest felt tight. That could have been any number of things, though. Maybe it was just because he was getting old.

Warren had done everything he was supposed to do. He had held onto her until the guard could catch up. They would have caught up to her anyway, no matter what happened, but Warren had ensured her death came swiftly. No further damage had been done, but when the smog she'd created drifted away, she was dead by his feet and for some reason, he felt guilty. As if he had been the one to cast the curse. As if he had been the one to kill her himself.

"Lieutenant," someone knocked on the door, and Warren moved aside to let the soldier in. "Wilson Barr's body had been wrapped and placed in the carriage. We're ready to go."

"Okay, I'll be there momentarily." The soldier nodded and Warren closed the door behind him, then went to retrieve his military jacket. By now, the blood on his clothes had dried. He didn't have an extra pair of trousers and his jacket was, presumably, still with Regan. Showing up at the parents house without even attempting to cover the blood up would have been insensitive, but even as he buttoned up the thick military jacket, it still didn't feel good enough.

Once outside, he inspected the body. It had been thoroughly wrapped in white cloth which helped to make it seem as though the head was still attached. Warren followed behind the carriage on his own horse, through the cold Hiems air to the Barr family home. The place was dark, no obvious candles or lanterns lit. Warren, accompanied by the two soldiers who had ridden with the body, knocked on the door. It took some time for the parents to come to the door, still weary and dressed in their nightclothes. Wilson's mother began shaking as soon as she saw some of the blood that Warren had attempted to hide. When he delivered the news, she screamed. She dropped to her knees. Yes, he had enlisted. Yes, violent deaths were often the inevitable end to most soldiers lives. But their son had gone to a party in the safest place in the Kingdom, nay, the safest place in Terra Nova. How had he not returned in one piece?

Warren wished he could give her the answer, but there was no answer to give and apologies were hardly enough. The poor woman had to be escorted back to her room. She was distraught. She could barely walk or breathe, she was sobbing so hard. The father remained to receive the body, which the two soldiers carried inside the home, past Warren and Lord Barr.

"Perhaps, Lord Barr, you alone should be the one to wash your sons body," Warren said quietly, gently.

"You would take that away from my wife as well?" He asked, an all too familiar rage in his tone.

"Your son...was decapitated, Lord Barr." The man's eyes widened, practically bulged from his head. Then he turned around, doubled over, and vomited. Warren stood there for a long moment, waiting for the man to finish, to regain his composure. When Lord Barr stood back up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe, it was on shaky legs, with a pale face. "I know it does not ease the pain, Lord Barr, but you will be compensated for. Everything that the military owes to your son will be given to you."

"You don't know a damned thing," the man spat at Warren's boots. "You'll never know. Goddess, I hope you never know," the man said, rambling as he walked away from Warren, leaving the door to his home wide open. One of the servants came up once he was gone, curtsied to Warren, and closed the door in his face.

"Captain?" One of the soldiers asked from behind. "Shall we take you home as well?"

"I'll ride home. You head back to the castle. A lot of people are going to need a ride home." Warren said, finally turning away from the door. "Thank you for your aid."

The soldier nodded, disappeared into the carriage, and the driver carried them off to Rainecourt palace.


When he arrived home, Warren tied the horse off and headed inside. The lanterns were still lit inside, meaning his mother was likely home and awake, despite the later hour. He walked inside quietly regardless, pulling his jacket off as he did. He hadn't gotten far, on the way to the staircase to head up to his bedroom, when a gasp pulled his attention across the room. "Uncle Warren!" Elisse practically shouted as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him.

"Ellie? What are you--"

Before he could finish, the rest of the heard rounded the corner, coming from the lounge. Evangeline, Theodore, Everly, Willa, and Estelle had all appeared, and the first two were wiping already teary eyes. Theo rushed forward and circled both Warren and Elisse in his arms, but only for a moment, before Ellie pushed him away and took a step back. Then she gasped again, just now noticing the blood that stained his clothes.

"You're -- you're hurt?" She said, also beginning to cry. Warren waved his hands and shook his head as quickly as he could.

"No, no, I'm fine. This isn't my blood, don't worry." It only seemed to minimally comfort them, but for a moment even his sisters and mother looked a little stunned.

"Now that we know he's okay, kids, let's go upstairs. Come on, go on up," the youngest sibling, Willa said. As the kids slumped, perhaps with a mixture of relief and exhaustion from being up so late, they began to drag their feet toward the stairs. Willa approached Warren as she walked behind them, leaning up on her tippy-toes and pulling him down by the collar of his shirt so she could give him a kiss on the temple. "If you ever do that again, Warren, I will absolutely strangle you."

"I know you will, little sister," he said, and she frowned, but made her way up the stairs behind the children to see them all to bed. Everly followed her, catching hold of one of the servants on her way.

"Get some hot water going, and some fresh clothes for him." Everly looked back at Warren, then returned her gaze to the servant. "And some extra clothes in a bag, I suppose."

Once they were all gone, Estelle made her way over to embrace Warren as well. "Where are Ian, Winnie, and Declan?" He asked when she let him go.

"Upstairs, already asleep. They tried to stay up and wait, but couldn't hold their eyes open any longer," she said, scolding him in a way. "Evangeline and Theodore were brought home in a carriage, in a complete and total panic. They were terrified. It took us a while to calm them down. They were sure you were dead. Why did it take so long for you to come home?"

"A boy was killed. I had to take his body to his parents."

Estelle frowned. "Which family?"

"The Barr's."

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'll check on them tomorrow. See if there's anything I can do for them. And the blood on you?"

"Re--a woman's, she works directly for the King."

"And she lived?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

Estelle nodded, reaching up to squeeze his arm. Their eyes met, but Warren looked away. He knew everyone wanted to know more about what had happened, but he just didn't have the time, energy, or desire to hash it all out just yet. "Clean up, son. I know you have to go."

Warren let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, mother."


Clean and dressed, Warren climbed down the stairs as quietly as he could with his bag tossed over his shoulder. As he moved toward the exit, a quiet 'pssst' pulled his attention to the side and he found Evie standing there with red eyes. She was the oldest of the kids. The one who had to keep it together for everyone else. Always taking the weight of the families emotions on her shoulders. But Warren knew, deep down, she was soft. Kind. Good-hearted. And she'd been just as worried as the rest, if not more.

"Come on," he said, ushering her forward. The girl moved forward quietly but quickly and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head pressed against his chest. Already she was crying again, though she was trying hard not to let a few tears turn into waterfalls.

"I don't want you to go back. Or Ellie, or Ian, or Theo, or Winnie. Can't you just stay home? Can't you quit? What if something happens again, like what happened to Will?"

Warren took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. He lifted a hand and ran it through her dark hair. "They're all just in their mandatory training, Evie. Once it's done, they can leave. They don't have to enlist. You know that."

"And you?"

"I can't leave."

"Why?"

"It's just not that simple, Evie," he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, but Evangeline jerked away from him, her fists balled at her sides, cheeks red between the tears and her anger.

"It is that simple! For anyone else! You just don't want to leave. Do you think grandpa William cares, or Aunt Daphne, or Will? They're all gone! They aren't here to care, but we are. Why won't you do something for us, we're still alive!"

"Evangeline!" Her mother scolded as she came down the stairs. "To your room." The volume of Everly's voice was low, quiet, but the tone was enough to send any man or child seeking a hiding spot. Everly, the eldest of the siblings, was also the most frightening of the three. Still, Evangeline, with more of her mother in her than Warren had ever realized, whipped her head around and turned that angry stare on her mother. The two locked eyes, but Everly pointed toward the second floor of the manor. "Go. Now." She did not budge, and finally Evangeline relented. She grunted and stormed off, stomping every step of the way until she reached the stairs. Then all they could hear was crying, until a door closed and the place went silent.

"Warren, she didn't --"

"I know she didn't mean it," he said, holding up his hand. "She's scared, and upset. It's not her fault." Plus, if the wine really had been spiked with some kind of potion, her emotions probably weren't entirely her own. Even if it hadn't been, though, Warren wouldn't blame her.

"She still shouldn't have said it," Everly sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, stepping closer to his sister and leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "You'll take care of everything here, right? I'm sorry. I have to go. Everything was still chaos when I left."

"It's okay. Go, I'll talk to them. I'll talk to her."

"Thank you." He moved to walk away, but Everly grabbed him by the wrist, frowning.

"Are you okay, little brother?"

Warren took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, Ev. I'm fine. I just need to go."

So Everly nodded, too. "Okay. Come home when you can."

"I will."


Once he'd arrived back at the castle, he walked up and down the halls, making sure that all of the soldiers had either gone home or the barracks. No one but those on guard were wandering the halls. He looked briefly for Kasper Van Zant, to follow up with him about the possibility of the wine being tampered with, but when he was unable to locate the man he instead went to his own office.

Sitting down at his desk, he rubbed his eyes and pulled some blank parchment from a desk drawer, dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to draw up Wilson Barr's paperwork. When he finished, some time had passed. He couldn't see it from his office, but the sun was beginning to come up. He walked over to the couch where he often rested, plucked his boots off, and laid down. His thoughts drifted from the chaos of the night and rested on Regan. He thought about the look of her skin, torn and red. The pained sounds she made, the shallow breathing that often came before death. Even as she was very possibly dying, she thought first of her responsibility, of Othello.

Any other time, sleep wouldn't have come at all. But he finally began to drift, just in time for someone to knock on his office door and come barging through. "Captain?" Jasper's voice said, only a few feet from where Warren was lying. He looked up at his assistant, eyebrows lifted.

"What?" He asked.

"Captain Commander Usher would like to see you in his office."

A breath exhaled through Warren's nose and he nodded, swinging his legs over to dip his feet back into his boots.